


Tremble

by Bright_Elen



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: ADHD powers activate!, After realizing my original story concept for the exchange might violate the DNWs, Begging, Breathplay, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't copy to another site, Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Loss of Control, M/M, Mild S&M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Topping from the Bottom, Wall Sex, please enjoy this emegency smut, that I wrote in one 4 hour sitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 01:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19140499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Elen/pseuds/Bright_Elen
Summary: A dead zone in the Force. A sudden lack of lightsabers. A power-tripping cyborg, and a disadvantaged Jedi willing to get creative.





	Tremble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanlyrical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/gifts).



Grievous’s forces were advancing against the clones, wave after wave of droids cutting down those pathetic organic attempts at true uniformity, and he was pleased. His army would soon take the Republic outpost, establish its own base, and move from there to more victories.

A Republic dropship came out of the obscuring fog, headed towards the thickest fighting.

“How many did they send in this wave?” Grievous demanded of the nearest droid, a B-1 logistics specialist.

“Uhhhh,” it said, looking through a set of quadnocs, sounding even more nervous than usual. “I only see the one, sir.”

“Look harder. ”

“Roger roger!”

The logistics droid didn’t spend much time looking, however, because the ship’s doors opened to reveal a single figure. A now-familiar flare of blue lit up the human’s pale features as he raised a hand, knocking dozens of droids to the ground, and leaped down.

“ _Kenobi_ ,” Grievous snarled, watching the blue plasma dance destruction through his army. He opened his arms to attack position and drew his own lightsabers, then loped across the battlefield, using droids as footing when he had to, intent only on reaching the Jedi.

* * *

Obi-Wan had arrived to back up Cody as quickly as he could, but the 212th had already taken losses. Obi-Wan did what he could to turn the tide, but almost as soon as he’d landed, he saw four lightsabers light up the fog across the battlefield.

Slashing through another handful of droids, he turned to Cody. “I’ll draw Grievous away. The rest should be easier to deal with without him.”

“May the Force be with you,” Cody answered, and went back to shooting.

Obi-Wan pushed dozens of droids aside, deflecting blaster bolts with his blade, running laterally to the main conflict. The quadruple glow followed him, but Grievous had always been faster, and the cyborg reached Obi-Wan before he’d made it all the way out of the battle. However, it didn’t seem to matter, as the droids gave their General the same wary space that they did Obi-Wan.

Just as Grievous was overtaking him, Obi-Wan lunged suddenly back the way he’d come, avoiding two lightsaber strikes and deflecting the other two. He pushed Grievous with the Force, trying to overbalance him, but the cyborg had upgraded his gyroscopics since last they’d crossed blades, and Grievous merely crouched low, digging talons into the ground, before springing forward again.

They clashed again, and again, enough that Obi-Wan was beginning to worry that he would tire before either defeating or escaping Grievous. But as they’d been moving farther and farther from the battle, the dirt under their feet giving way to bare rock, and soon Obi-Wan saw the fog sinking into a chasm just behind Grievous.

Obi-Wan put all his strength into another Force-push. Grievous’s Metal talons screeched across the stone, and then clutched the cliff’s edge. With a sweep of his hands, Obi-Wan snatched the stolen lightsabers from the unbalanced cyborg’s hands, launching them away into the mist.

Unfortunately, that allowed Grievous to grip the stone with four additional limbs, and he was upon Obi-Wan in a flash, yanking his feet out from under him, knocking his lightsaber from his grip. Obi-Wan flung out his hand, reaching for his weapon with the Force, but being hauled into the air and thrown to the ground again knocked the air from his lungs and broke his concentration.

When he reached out again, he couldn’t feel the quiet pulse of his kyber crystal.

Desperate, Obi-Wan drew upon his unarmed combat skills as much as the Force, fighting Grievous with telekinesis and enhanced strikes. But Grievous was stronger than any organic, Force or no, and soon he was driving Obi-Wan backwards towards the edge of the ravine.

Worse, the closer they got to the precipice, the more Obi-Wan’s connection to the Force waned. His attacks lost their strength, and then his defenses. Grievous’s next blow hit his stomach with almost full force, sending him staggering over the edge.

Before he could fall, metal claws grabbed him by the tunic, and Grievous loomed over him. He moved closer, gripping Obi-Wan’s arms tight enough to bruise as he dangled over the abyss.

“Getting sentimental?” Obi-Wan wheezed, still breathless from the punch, and trying not to panic. He could barely feel the Force at all, certainly not enough to use it to defend himself. Something about the ravine, perhaps? Though he’d read about them, dead zones were rare enough that he’d never expected to encounter one. Marvellous.

“When you die, it will be at my leisure,” Grievous rumbled.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, took his first full breath since the blow, and let his legs buckle. The change in position surprised Grievous into dropping him, and he rolled forward, got to his feet, and dashed back towards the Force and his lightsaber.

Or, well, that was the plan. Grievous kept hold of him, instead, and Obi-Wan grunted as his knees hit the rock of the precipice.

“Your Force has failed you,” Grievous chuckled, low and metallic, the sound dragging a chill up Obi-Wan’s spine. “Now I will show you just how pathetic you really are.”

One of his hands came up to drag the sharp point of a thumb down Obi-Wan’s face, scratching a thin, burning line down his cheek. It was painful, yes, but also startlingly intimate. Obi-Wan noticed Grievous’s eyes going dark.

There were Jedi who would have felt shame to relinquish their dignity to an enemy. Obi-Wan understood that only theoretically; to him, dignity was like a robe: useful, but easily discarded if the occasion called for it.

The current occasion definitely called for it. It could simply be that Grievous was looking forward to torturing Obi-Wan. But if it wasn’t...

Well. Only one way to find out.

* * *

Kenobi struggled in Grievous’s hands, but to no avail. Humans really were astonishingly weak. They were so soft, bled so easily. How much could he make Kenobi bleed before he passed out? How long could he keep him on the threshold of life and death?

“That’s what you want, is it?” Kenobi said, still breathing hard from the fight. “To prove your superiority? Put me in my place?”

He could have snapped Kenobi’s spine like a twig, but the Jedi looked only uncomfortable, not terrified. Anger flaring hot at his resistance, Grievous bent low, face inches from Kenobi’s, grip bowing the human backwards on his knees. “I will teach you to fear me!”

“Jedi train from an early age to release our fear,” Kenobi said, almost conversationally. “You could pull me apart and not get what you wanted.”

“I’ll see for myself,” Grievous snapped.

“However—” Kenobi stopped, chest heaving, eyes locked on Grievous’s. He licked his lips, tongue distractingly pink.

It was a trick. A Jedi manipulation, from one of the most manipulative Jedi. But the unfinished statement burned in Grievous’s mind, demanding a resolution, and would not let him ignore it.

He shook Kenobi, relishing his wince. “However?”

“However,” Kenobi said, voice straining from the position he was in but going softer all the same, “there are...compromising scenarios we aren’t trained against. Meditation is supposed to takes care of the desires, but in my experience, it’s no preparation for the act itself.”

Grievous jerked back, nearly toppling Kenobi forward, but he composed himself quickly. “I see through your deception, Jedi.”

“Jedi don’t lie.”

Fury strong enough to spill from his nervous system into his circuitry, Grievous decided to test that. After a look at the cliff face, he swung Kenobi and himself over the edge.

Talons digging into the rock, he arrested their slide very quickly, and they stopped only about three meters below the precipice above. He pinned Kenobi to the cliff with two hands at his shoulders, bracing himself with the other two. Kenobi kicked uselessly at the cliff for a moment, then finally accepted that it was too sheer to rest his weight anywhere but Grievous’s legs.

Most organics would have been a blubbering mess at the fall or the position alone, let alone both. Kenobi, by contrast, seemed more disoriented than frightened, and given that even Grievous himself hadn’t known until the last second what he'd been about to do, accepted that the Jedi’s emotions weren’t a performance.

He’d been telling the truth.

“You see?” Kenobi said, perhaps listening to Grievous’s thoughts, perhaps just reading the situation correctly. “If you want to reduce me to a trembling mess, it’s going to have to be sex.”

“I left that weakness behind years ago,” Grievous hissed, “though I suppose you are arrogant enough to think you could change that.”

“I saw the look in your eyes,” Kenobi murmured. “You want my blood, yes, but you want my surrender even more. I’m telling you how to get it.”

Furious that the Jedi had seen that much, Grievous released Kenobi’s shoulders, forcing him to throw his arms against the cliff to keep from falling to either side. “Why?”

“Because I want to live, and this gives me more time,” Kenobi said, far too calm for someone in his position. He licked his lips again. “And I have always found you...compelling.”

* * *

Balanced precariously on a cliff face was not a sexual position Obi-Wan had ever imagined anyone in, let alone himself, but there was something undeniably captivating about the raw strength in Grievious’s limbs as he held their combined weight aloft with only talons and two arms. If the General took the bait, Obi-Wan would have to use most of his self-control just to keep his balance on Grievous’s legs.

Grievous made a rumbling, metallic sound, half anger and half intrigue, and then leaned closer. Obi-Wan opened his mouth, ready to make another argument, but then two metallic hands were untying his belt, pushing his robes aside, and starting on his trousers.

A little stunned that his ploy had worked, Obi-Wan took a shuddering breath. That snagged Grievous’s attention from the trousers to Obi-Wan’s stomach, eyes and hands both. Cold metal ghosted over his fluttering belly, and Obi-Wan distantly felt his animal fear of pain and death surge up. The adrenaline, by contrast, wasn’t muted at all.

But Grievous didn’t sink his claws into Obi-Wan. Instead, he drew another red line across Obi-Wan's skin, this one from sternum to navel.

It drew little blood, and the pain was immaterial to a Jedi; Obi-Wan didn’t even have to try to suppress a reaction.

Grievous made a disappointed noise, glaring. Then, experimentally, eyes still narrowed, pulled his fingertips across the delicate skin of Obi-Wan’s waist.

Obi-Wan gasped at the touch, skin electrified by the stimulation. Grievous pulled back in surprise, then leaned forward, close enough to press the grille of his face plate against Obi-Wan’s ear.

“I’ll have you begging soon,” he promised, synth-organic voice slithering into Obi-Wan’s ear, down his spine, and to his cock.

Obi-Wan shivered.

* * *

After all the times they’d fought — all the energy Grievous had put into trying to make Kenobi know his defeat, only to have his efforts infuriatingly wasted on the unperturbed Jedi — it was almost maddening to discover how easy it was to make him quiver. That it wasn’t in pain was quickly becoming irrelevant to Grievous’s enjoyment.

Caressing Kenobi’s abdomen alone produced quite satisfying reactions: shaking, heavy breathing, lip-biting, eye-averting. They plateaued after a short while, though, so Grievous went back to undoing Kenobi’s trousers. With one hand at the small of his back, he pulled the human’s hips off the wall, gratified at how he struggled to keep his balance, and with another, dragged the clothing down. Then he allowed the man to resettle against the cliff.

His sex organ was already partially engorged. Grievous chuckled in superiority. “So simple. So easy to manipulate,” he said, and stroked Kenobi from abdomen to thigh, watching in satisfaction as his legs tensed and his phallus grew larger.

Grievous shifted his weight onto both left arms, folded his right together, and wrapped a six-fingered hand around Kenobi’s phallus. The human grunted, much like he had when Grievous had landed that blow, and the General purred.

* * *

Six fingers was new. Six cold, hard fingers, with points that only aroused Obi-Wan further with their destructive potential prickling his most sensitive skin. And two thumbs, once Grievous had gleefully experimented with them, meant he could tease the base and head of Obi-Wan’s cock simultaneously.

“Ah!” Obi-Wan let himself gasp. He pressed back against the cliff, the better to keep his balance, but he also allowed his hips to start pumping forward, as if he were already at the mercy of his reactions. “Yes, yes, that’s— oh!”

Grievous leaned forward eagerly, face close to Obi-Wan’s, drinking in his every reaction. With each stroke Obi-Wan’s pleasure kept building, soon reaching a height he hadn’t felt for a long while.

Then Grievous released him and leaned back again. Trying to chase the pleasure, Obi-Wan’s hips jerked his whole body forward, and only Grievous’s hand in the center of his chest kept him from falling — or at least, that’s what he wanted the cyborg to think.

The cyborg was laughing his metallic laugh, and frustration flared up to mingle with Obi-Wan’s arousal. “Karking hell.”

That only made Grievous laugh harder. “I am still your enemy, Kenobi,” he reminded him, and spread his fingers wide to thumb Obi-Wan’s nipples, delighting in the moan that produced. “And I will see you utterly defeated.”

Angry and aroused, Obi-Wan scraped up his resolve, too. “Then stop talking,” he said, chin held high in defiance and invitation both, “And defeat me.”

* * *

Kenobi’s throat under his hand was quite pleasing, Grievous found, tightening his grip until the human could no longer breathe. It was incredibly entertaining to watch his body struggle, almost up to the point of losing consciousness, and then let him suck in air again, chest heaving, phallus bobbing and leaking. He only let himself do it twice, however; the temptation to squeeze the life out of Kenobi was only getting stronger, and he still hadn’t heard him beg, yet.

“Is that,” Kenobi panted, eyes unfocused, “all you’ve got?”

“Jedi,” Grievous chuckled, “I’ve just begun.”

In fact, it wasn’t soon before he lost track of how many times he stroked Kenobi to the brink of completion. Each time the human’s whole body shook, his hips thrusting his phallus into Grievious’s fist, almost thrashing when Grievous stopped and held him against the wall with two or three hands, listening to his language get progressively less coherent and more frustrated. He lost track of time, the battle plan, everything that wasn’t wringing every last iota of humiliating need from Kenobi.

He was beginning the cycle again, trailing a claw down Kenobi’s throat, when the man shuddered, and whispered, perhaps involuntarily, “Please.”

The thrill of triumph flashing though Grievous was better than most post-battle euphoria, and he felt almost tender as he curled over Kenobi and purred, “‘Please’ what?”

Blue eyes looking more pained than they’d ever been during a fight, Kenobi swallowed. “Please let me come.”

Grievous said nothing, only went back to stimulating Kenobi. This time he curled fingers around his scrotum, squeezing softly, rolling the two nodes inside around his palm. Kenobi keened beautifully and strained forward, trying to find friction with his phallus. It wasn’t going to happen, of course, because Grievous was far stronger than the human, but it was so very gratifying that he was trying.

“Please!” Kenobi pleaded, “Please, General, let me come, I’m begging you, just like you wanted, _please_.”

Grievous had imagined a similar situation hundreds of times, Kenobi begging him for release. In the previous fantasies it had been the sweet oblivion of death, but begging for an orgasm was still begging.

Additionally, Kenobi living through the process just meant that Grievous would get to enjoy it again.

* * *

Letting Grievous almost bring him to orgasm something like a dozen times was a calculated move on Obi-Wan’s part; give in too early, and Grievous would know he was faking. Too late, and it would exhaust Obi-Wan’s self-control.

The hand around his cock undulated on the next upstroke, and Obi-Wan moaned, much longer than he’d planned.

Grievous chuckled. “You are learning to appreciate me, Kenobi.”

Breathing hard, Obi-Wan tried to come up with a witty retort.

“Ngh.”

Grievous sped his hand.

“Ah!”

And then, right when Obi-Wan’s pleasure was about to ignite, Grievous let go of his cock.

“No!” Obi-Wan gasped, and this time, it was entirely unplanned. “No, please, General, don’t stop!” His body, desperate for release, leaned forward, but Grievous separated his right arms and held the human against the rock with three hands. “ _Please_!” he cried, and stars, felt warmth spill down his cheeks.

Perhaps his calculations had been off.

* * *

Grievous quite enjoyed Kenobi’s tears, which he hadn’t expected, even in his torture fantasies. Those alone made him draw out the human’s torment across another three times of almost reaching orgasm.

But, eventually, Kenobi began repeating the same reactions, and Grievous wanted something new.

“You will come,” Grievous said, wrapping fingers back around Kenobi’s phallus. “You experience release because I allow it.”

“Please, yes, yes, thank you,” Kenobi sobbed, thrusting wildly into Grievous’s fist as he pumped him, and then he shouted, as loud and raw as any scream of agony.

Grievous shook the mess off his hand into the ravine, and then watched as Kenobi slumped, breathing hard, against the rock. It was glorious, how utterly ruined he was, sweat and tears and semen staining his skin, voice growing hoarse, and not even the slightest hint of resistance or mockery.

Grievous was looking forward to seeing how many times he could repeat the process before Kenobi passed out.

* * *

Obi-Wan did manage to occupy Grievous long enough for the 212th to win the battle, and then for Cody to go looking for him, for Cody to return to the drop ship, for Cody to fly over the ravine and throw Obi-Wan a line, for the gunner to lay down enough cover fire to get Grievous to let Obi-Wan go.

Eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at [bright-elen](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bright-elen) on Tumblr in case anyone wants to say hi XD


End file.
